


i'm selfish (i'm living in your memories)

by joonswig



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, fuck you keynes, he misses jisung, macroeconomics references, minho just goes through it literally nothing more, vent fic really, woojin is just kind of there as a figure sorry woojin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 12:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18282491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joonswig/pseuds/joonswig
Summary: Whether supply creates its own demand or demand creates its own supply is a matter of perspective. How the economy changes between the short and long run, if there even is a long run, is a question lacking a clear answer.Minho feels like he’s okay in the long run.(He's not.)





	i'm selfish (i'm living in your memories)

**Author's Note:**

> uh this is kinda shameless projecting literally a real life convo i had this makes zero sense btw but do i love minsung yes. title from run back 2 u by nct 127

Whether supply creates its own demand or demand creates its own supply is a matter of perspective. How the economy changes between the short and long run, if there even is a long run, is a question lacking a clear answer.

 

Minho feels like he’s okay in the long run. With time comes acceptance and the part of his life he lost is buried in the back of his head, locked in a drawer, unopened, forgotten. When the wound was still fresh, the sting would remind him of what he’s lost, a pulsating pain that wakes him up in the middle of the night, that follows him through the day. But a month becomes six, a scab starts to for, a year becomes three and the mark still etches his skin, barely noticeable. He goes to sleep, thinking of the day ahead, rather than reminisce the lost past. He breathes lighter with each day, because he’s moving on. Slowly, gradually, reluctant to let go, but he moves on. 

 

Moving on, it’s a tricky term. Minho thinks he is moving on fine because a best friend is no longer someone you pine over, when he speaks of his crush, he means whoever is around at the moment and when he hears ‘love’ he doesn’t think Jisung. He thinks his mother, he thinks his cat, he thinks his friends, the boy hardly ever crosses his mind. 

 

And sometimes, he thinks different. 

 

Because sometimes, Jisung makes his presence known again. It’s like the universe is begging them to push back towards each other, reverse the distance Minho put between them. He sees Jisung at school and his breath hitches, heart palpitates and his body irks to reach out to him. Copious amounts of self-restrain hold him back where he belongs. It hurts, always emotionally, sometimes physically, but with practice it’s a natural habit to ignore the boy. What makes Minho’s new, tidy world flip and spill past the boundaries he tried to establish, is when Jisung reaches out to him. 

 

It’s rare, but it happens. Sometimes, it’s a text. Minho still has Jisung’s contact saved on his phone, with an old selfie he sent over snapchat. He doesn’t allow himself to delve upon the fact that Jisung still has his number, too. It’s usually a favour he has, but Minho latches on to the possibility of talking with him for a minute, sometimes more, like a man desperate for the last drops of water in the desert. The most trivial of conversations put a rest to anything around him. Nothing else matters and for a short second, Jisung is back to being the centre of Minho’s universe. Then it ends, Minho snaps out of the trance, locks away the memory of Jisung deeper and deeper. It works in the short run. 

 

It’s one of those moments today. He’s over at Woojin’s house, planning to stay the night. Woojin is one of the people in his new friend group, one he’s very close, if not closest, to. He’s charming, smile as blinding as his heart is kind. Minho likes to hold his hand, likes to pull him into a hug and let it linger. Woojin makes him laugh, is a nice incentive to roll his ass out of bed in the morning to see him. It’s a crush, he guesses. He gets those often. A lot of love to give, but not one person he can fully devote it to. It’s easier to keep things this way, because people don’t often like Minho, not in the way he likes them. 

 

Woojin is fixing them a meal, chatting him up ever so often from behind the island. Minho is sprawled on the couch, resting after a long day of neglecting schoolwork, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. It’s serene and it’s calm. The storm hits all of a sudden when Jisung messages him. Supply awakens the demand that has always been there. 

 

_HOLY FUCK_

 

_I WAS GOING THRU SCREEN SHOTS OF LIKE OLD_

_CONVOS_

 

_AND I FFOUND THAT TIME WHEN U WATCHED_

_THE FUCKIN GERMAN PORNO FOR ENGLISH_

 

_LIKE INSTEAD OF THE MOVIE WE WERE SUPPOSED TO WATCH_

 

_IM CRYING THIS SI THE FUNNIEST THING IVE SEEN_

 

They were best friends in middle school, him and Jisung. They’ve made many memories along the way, often very embarrassing and something anyone else would rather forget. Both of them were not very bright thirteen year olds to begin with, but their idiocy seemed to grow exponentially when they were together. The situation Jisung referred to happened when they were assigned to watch the movie “Love” by the director Haneke. It’s a French film about euthanasia, awarded in Cannes. Minho watched the movie “Love”, also by a Haneke, also awarded in Cannes, but telling the (very explicit) story of old German women who go to Africa to become sugar mommies. He messaged their groupchat after the terrorising experience, questioning why on earth anyone would assign a movie like this for teenagers to watch, only for his other friends to explain his mistake. 

 

He’s stunned for a second, but snaps out of it. Without Jisung physically addressing him, it seems more like a surreal daydream. He plays along, pretends it’s not a short lived moment, pretends it’s the long run. It’s as though he turns back in time a few years back, snickering at the phone, replying to the boy. 

 

_not my proudest moment_

 

_fjsdhkfhjdsfhksdjf_

 

_i’m so fucking dumb this is so sad_

 

_GOD_

 

_I’m just…._

 

_God yea I don’t know whatt went on in your head, I’m HOWLING_

 

“What’s up?” Woojin calls out from the kitchen, taking notice of Minho’s lopsided smile.

 

“Just a friend from middle school,” he dismissed him. He can’t pay to diverge his attention from Jisung for too long, not with this single conversation setting his body alight, making him feel _something_ , unnamed and overwhelming. 

 

_goddddddd_

 

_the way i’m a DUMBASS_

 

_LMAO literally a fool_

 

_i’m literally going thru it_

 

_where did the old days go lmaooo_

 

_poor kid_

 

_so innocent,,,,,so pure_

 

Minho used to be much different from his current stage, although he’s not quite sure what this entails. He’s more aware, he reckons, smarter. He knows what he feels (most of the time), knows how to act on it without hurting others or himself. It’s been a long-term process, his development. He’s put in a lot of effort, shifting himself further, increasing his potential, growing. 

 

_god i found like pics from our trip to the sea??_

 

_wanna see??_

 

_omg yesss_

 

_have to warn you tho_

 

_we look like dumbasses_

 

_we were dumbasses, that’s in character_

 

_truly_

 

_no wonder no one liked us_

 

_fucking nerds lmaooo_

 

 

Jisung sends him the photos, mostly of either of them and their friends making a fool of themselves. It was a school trip, one Minho feels ambivalent about. It was fun, they walked around the small town together with their friends in the evening, Jisung insisting on them getting ice cream to share, the late September weather warm enough for the pleasure. Back in their room, after curfew, they pulled out a deck and Jisung taught them how to play poker. Minho knew already, but he took in every word that spilled from Jisung’s lips, followed his fingers tracing the cards. On their way back, they sat together in the bus and Jisung fell asleep on his shoulder, wrapped in a blanket they shared. 

 

They broke apart soon after.

 

_god I know_

 

_literally the lamest idiots i can’t believe_

 

_i kinda miss this though_

 

It’s dangerous territory, the word ‘miss’. It implies longing, it suggests affection, it means loss. A loss which both of them suffered to an extent. 

 

_i know_

 

_beats me why it just stopped_

 

_like, why did you even stop talking to me?_

 

The reasoning, which seemed crystal clear at the time, is blurred out in hindsight. Minho can remember how overwhelmed he felt, how frustrated he was with himself, with Jisung, with not being able to communicate what he wants. He’s much calmer now, much less vile. He doesn’t need to distance himself from people to not hurt them and himself. Back then, it wasn’t as simple.

 

Back then, staying away from Jisung was a breath of fresh air. In the short run, cutting himself off seemed like the only solution. You can’t feel pain if you don’t feel at all. In the long run, he sees how much he’s lost, the precious memories they could have made together, if only Minho had voiced what he was going through. 

 

_i was_

 

_i don’t know_

 

_i felt bad about who i was and i assumed you thought the same, like  
you’d prefer other people over me _

 

_god i’m so sorry Jisung, you never deserved this_

 

_i spent a really long time blaming myself_

 

_you were never to blame_

 

_im the fuckingidiotwho hurt you_

 

_you never did anything wrong_

 

 

Maybe he has, maybe he hasn’t. Minho’s memory of the years he spent with Jisung is filtered, he idealises it in his head. The happy moments, the sweet words and gentle smiles overpower their endless fights, the headstrong attitude both of them would exhibit. But to him, all of this is trivial in its negativity. Anything that pertains to the youth he spent with Jisung is inherently good. If Jisung is a package deal, he’ll take it without hesitation. It’s so obvious in the long run. 

 

_well you felt bad_

 

_so i guess it is my fault_

 

It feels like a stab in the chest. 

 

_it was never your fault_

 

_i’m serious_

 

_i should have talked to you, said anything_

 

_i just left and i’m sorry_

 

_it’s so stupid, i should have just reached out_

 

_why is it so hard_

 

_i see you sometimes at school and i wanna reach out to you_

 

_me too_

 

_i didn’t know if i could_

 

_i miss you_

 

_fuck i always think im over it but i’m not_

 

_i don’t thnk im over it_

 

_can i say something stupid_

 

_fuck okay_

 

_i dont think there’s ever been a day thati haven’t missed you_

 

“Hey, Minho,” he quickly locks his phone, surprised to see Woojin standing behind him. “Everything okay? You look kinda…perplexed? Kind of like you’re in a trance or something.”

 

He is. He is so focused on Jisung, on the rare chance of feeling like he’s back in Minho’s life, that the world seems to have faded away. Woojin breaking him out of the little bubble of denial, fantasy, angers him. He’s annoyed because he doesn’t want to remember where he is now, doesn’t want to think about how much more he’d like Jisung by his side.

 

Minho doesn’t let it show, “it’s fine, just, you know…texting that friend. We haven’t talked in a while.”

 

“Oh, that’s nice!” Woojin gives him a bright smile, one Minho often finds charming. He can’t find it in him to do so now. He excuses himself and hides in Woojin’s bathroom, eagerly waiting for a response. He taps his foot against the tiles impatiently, hoping he didn’t cross a line he shouldn’t have. 

 

_me too_

 

_god we’re so dysfunctional, we could have just talked_

 

_hey_

 

_if i see you at school_

 

_i will talk to you_

 

_if you’re okay with that_

 

_yeah_

 

_i’m kind of in shock rn_

 

_but i think so_

 

He doesn’t know if Jisung forgave him, but if he has, Minho finds himself undeserving. And yet, the egoistic urge to bring him back, to feel happy again, makes him vow to never let go again. It’s so sudden, so unrealistic and he feels like he’s dreaming, hallucinating the entire conversation. He knows he doesn’t deserve Jisung, but he can’t give up on him.

 

He goes back to Woojin and pretends he’s not shaken up as they eat the dinner he prepared. He thinks of how similar him and Jisung are. That’s why he developed a liking for Woojin. Then it hit him, his fifth crush maybe — no matter where he moved, what new environment he adapted to, he always seeks out the one person he is missing. He’s quick to like someone, adores them will all he’s worth, but it wears out in time, it can only last in the short run. 

 

The same awkward sense of humour that doesn’t appeal to anyone else but him. The same kindness veiled with nonchalance. The same headstrong attitude. Woojin carries everything that he grew to love about Jisung. But it’s not real, it will never be. Minho starts noticing the differences. Woojin is naturally sweet and positive, when Jisung has a brisk attitude that covers up just how much he cares. Where Woojin is more lenient to avoid conflict, Jisung is stubborn and confrontational. Woojin can admit to have made a mistake, Jisung will always defend his ground, no matter if he’s in the wrong or not. Woojin is shy, takes a while to open up. Jisung, albeit awkward around new people, never fails to speak his mind, defend what he believes in. Looking at Woojin just helps him realise what he's lost. 

 

Woojin is a friend he can conveniently pour his unrequited affection onto, while Jisung is the love of his life. Short run, long run, doesn’t matter. Minho has always been stuck in the intermediate phase, where his feelings centre around Jisung, or the illusion of him. 

 

_okay_

 

_i will_

 

_i can’t wait to see you_

 

 

He doesn’t get a response, but it’s okay. Something tells him Jisung will never really be gone. 

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/soobinpl)   
>  [buy me a ko-fi](http://ko-fi.com/joonswig)


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